Cegarse
by cage comet
Summary: cegarse (adj.) devoid of emotion


Near a rarely visited bridge located in Manhattan, where the skies were a shade of grey, the previously dry ground turned slippery, the formerly bright day turned dark,a brown-haired girl clad in black — a black Kato Ninja hoodie, black cargo shorts, a pair of black men's socks, a pair of black running shoes, and a black backpack — ran in its alleyways heading to the river. After catching the bridge in her vision, she began to slow her pace down and calm her erratically beating heart. Her eyes were lifeless and her face showed no emotion...

She knew that it may bring her cold, that it may bring her pain. She knew that it may lead her to the depths of the river, that it may lead her to the depths of her chaotic mind. She knew it all. Yet she didn't care even if she gets ill, even if she gets hurt. She didn't care even if she drowns in the water, even if she drowns in the voices. She just didn't care about it.

She stopped caring about those things long ago. She couldn't even remember the last time she cared about her happiness. It's not her happiness but something else. Satisfaction, quite. But it was more of a punishment. A punishment she longed for because she knew she deserved it. A punishment she aimed for because she knew it can rid her of her pessimistic thoughts.

The thoughts that loom in the void of her mind at 3:00 A. M. and slowly consume her whole being. It was an every-other-day routine. Waking up at around three in the morning and not being able to go to sleep until 12 in the morning. She experienced that one too many times. But if someone asked her how she's holding up, she would only stare at them and state that she is, indeed, fine. That's not wrong though, she believes, because it's not a lie. Instead, a word that describes her physical state.

She's eating well, at least twice a day. She doesn't purge. She does exercises. And she communicates with others. But in all of those remains the underlying stability of her mental and emotional health. She's tired. Tired of all the work she has done. Tired of all the obstacles she has faced. Tired of all the pain she received. Tired of all the emotions she bottled up. And most importantly, she's tired of all the monsters she battled with.

Opposite the young girl's usually bright demeanor is her inner turmoil. Her inner turmoil which is filled with hatred towards her own self. Hatred built by her undeniable love for her best friend, by her pessimistic way of thinking. The pessimistic way of thinking which is hidden to nearly everyone. Everyone but her and her tools.

Upon facing the calm river — which our dear protagonist envies of its peace unlike her havoc — she jumped on the rail of the bridge and sat on it. It's not like anyone will care even if she does it anyway, die, that is. Afterall, she has been doing the same routine for months and not one person stopped her. Only, she gained acquaintances and others whom she may even consider friends, and has been used to some of them joining her. Like now, even if both of them — the one clad in black and the brown-haired lass in grey — kept different facades at school, they know full well what each other thinks and won't bother to stop the other with force. Simply because they know how to make the other stop and it has an impact.

"I kept wondering why you sit there at midnight. I mean, don't they care about you?" the grey-clad stated. It was a statement said nonchalantly but has concern all around itself, like any other statement that participated their conversation at nighttime.

"They do, but that's not why I sit here at midnight. Because once they realize that I'm here every midnight possible for me to be, they'll be worried sick. But you know about how I think of myself and my irresistible urge to kill myself, right?"

"Yes. Am I correct to assume that you don't want them seeing your lifeless form with your blood on the floor when you cut a little too much?"

"Mhmm... And I'm guessing that you have dealt with this?"

"Yes. It was a few months ago when I saw lifeless eyes like yours in the mirror. It was around the time we first met and red gashes were revealed. From that time on, I dared myself to not look at my reflection just so my proud personality will tone down. I didn't realize that it spiraled down more than it should."

A peaceful silence followed as both girls stared at the river with the burning desire to both drown fully and see their loved ones' irises soon.

"Mhmm... Say, do you know what it is that's keeping the both of us breathing?" the raven-clad voiced out her question.

"Most likely, it's the idea that the ones whom we believe care for us are the ones whom we care for and I doubt it'll be pleasant to see someone whom you loved dearly stop breathing. It's already the devil's hour by the way. Do you still want to rest your eyes?"

"I appreciate you letting me know. But yes, it may arise suspicion if they don't see me in the room two hours before their wake-up call. If, by another chance, we get to meet here again and converse like usual, are you willing to rest your eyes on the blue waves before us?"

"No, it will only cause you more of what I feel and you probably will carry that for a long time. And I don't want that for you, you still have a future ahead of you. So, I'll fire you back the question, are you willing to rest your eyes on the blue waves before us?"

"Likewise, I doubt you won't blame yourself for that matter."

A long yet comfortable tranquil participated in their conversation.

"Are we going to part ways now?" asked the grey-clad.

"Well, yes. Why? Do you want to keep the conversation going on?"

"I doubt it will be kept up considering the both of us need to go to school but yes, I do. Farewell, Bradford."

"Likewise, Matthews."

She hates it — lying to them and deceiving them — but she needs to keep up the act so they won't be as suspicious of her.


End file.
